Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ PITCH ❯ Domestic ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

 

Pitch: (def.) 

A substance commonly utilized to bind materials in construction... Tar pitch appears solid, and can be shattered with a hard impact, but it is actually fluid. Pitch flows at room temperature, but extremely slowly. To attain maximum fluidity, to be used, it must be exposed to heat.

 

Minds are like pitch. To reveal their full potential, they must be exposed to environs that apply stress. They must be challenged.

 

____________________________________________________________< /font>

 

Part 6: (Domestic)

 

Raito blinked blearily at his clock and reached an uncoordinated hand out to disable the alarm before it went off in another ten minutes. Ironic that he always woke before its grating chimes sounded, no matter how tired he was, yet if he did not set it, he was guaranteed to oversleep.

 

Stupid alarm clocks. They were irritating in the most deviously small ways. Give him a clock that could serve him a fresh cup of coffee, everything added, and maybe then he'd reconsider. 

 

Oh wait. He had one of those. He could smell the freshly brewing coffee wafting back from the kitchen. 

 

Well. They could damn well make one that was silent then, so at least he could keep it at his bedside and wouldn't have to get up for that first cup.

  

Lazy, you say? No. Practical.

 

Yagami Raito's best kept secret was that he was not at his best in the morning.

 

He rolled out of bed, wincing as his bare feet touched the cold tile floor and padded to the bathroom. He thought nothing of the fact that he was naked - he often slept that way. 

 

There was something slightly amiss, he thought as he made his way from the bathroom to the kitchen, loosely tying the sash of his black silk robe. Something... Was he forgetting some important detail of the coming workday? But even if he was, Hal would be sure to remind him. She was a fair personal assistant most days. Could cop a bit of an attitude, though.

 

The coffee, as usual, was too hot to drink the moment it was poured. He frowned into it consideringly, then dropped an ice cube into its rich depths, impatient to feel alert. What that yielded was a slightly unsavory mix of iced and hot coffee, depending on the sip, which was possibly too exciting for the early morning faint-of-heart. 

 

A spoon might have solved that, but he didn't want to be bothered. Besides, the second law of thermodynamics was hard at work, seeing to the evening out of the extremes even now. A few minutes more and all he would have was a pleasingly warm cup of caffeine. 

 

He padded over to the couch and sank down into the leather cushions, curling around his coffee cup and looking out the sliding glass door to his enclosed Japanese garden. It was too early for there to be anything but the barest trace of illumination outside. He sipped his coffee, staring out into the calm darkness, waiting for the chemical reaction to occur that would bring his brain into its normal, fully functional state.

 

It was as he turned to the end table beside the couch, to engage in his recent morning ritual of poring over the coasters Lawliet's hand had graced, that he realized a great many things at once.

 

First, as his mind bent to contemplating Lawliet, was the sharp jolt of remembered passion as the night before came into sharper focus than any past dreams had done. Second was that his partner had disappeared like a phantom, leaving only the cold, empty bed Raito was accustomed to waking up to. (His own choice, of course. He typically disliked bringing other people into his home.) Third - and this was what had set it all off, illuminating the situation in such gory detail - was the scattered state of the coasters, moved by hands other than his own.

 

That his lighter sat beside them, apparently returned to him in a gesture of parting, was the coup de grâce.

 

"Shit," he uttered under his breath. He hadn't meant Lawliet to see his collection. He was never supposed to. It showed a level of... interest on his part that he hadn't wanted the other man to be aware of. He would have put them away had he thought there was a chance in hell he'd have managed to coerce the dark-haired intellectual into his home. Last night had been entirely played by whim, and luck had both graced him and stabbed him in the same fell swoop. 

 

He hadn't been thinking clearly. He never should have brought his quarry home, never should have risked the discovery of his collection...

 

Oh, but the taste of him, the feel of him underneath me... the hazy, passionate look in his dark eyes......... can I truly say that it was not worth it? 

 

Raito closed his eyes, breathing against the pleasure that fluttered in his gut.

 

It was worth 10,000 discoveries. If only it didn't mark the end of this pursuit. If only he could wind his way so deep into Lawliet that the man could not escape him.

 

Just how elusive will you be, Lawliet?

 

Raito rose from the couch and went to the front door, confirming that it was unlocked and that Lawliet's jacket was no longer on the floor in front of it. He went to the bedroom and found only his own clothes lying discarded on the floor. 

 

A sudden wave of frustration rolled over him at his own lack of foresight, and Lawliet's nerve at just leaving. 

 

I messed things up.

 

What was Lawliet thinking when he found the coasters? 

 

Angry? Unnerved? Which might it have been? What pall did that cast over everything?

 

He gave back the lighter. He has left no article behind... no excuse for me to call on him.

 

Damn him for being an insomniac and needing so little sleep! If I could have woken before him, I would have realized in time. I could have hidden them.  

 

For the first time in his life, Raito also found himself grinding his teeth, worried at the possibility that he might snore, drool, or do some other unsightly thing in his sleep and that someone might have borne witness to it. The situation had never really come up before. He needed significantly less sleep than most people he knew, and he was prone to being a light sleeper when sharing a bed. To his knowledge, no one had ever had the opportunity to see him unconscious, past the time when he was a very young child.

 

It was chafing.

 

Lawliet had seen him defenseless, maybe thought things at him while he was not able to intercede on his own behalf, and he likely now thought of him as a stalker, thanks to the coasters.

 

What a brilliant day this was turning out to be. 

 

He would ask what else could go wrong, but he knew better.

 

Raito decided to take a shower and get ready for work before making breakfast. The routine of it would hopefully calm his mind enough that he could work out his strategy, instead of fixating on the fact that Lawliet was gone and meant to stay that way.

 

He was just getting out of the shower when the phone rang. 

 

Cursing softly, he finished a cursory toweling-off, then wrapped the towel around his waist as he made for the kitchen phone.

 

"Hello?" he said curtly. He was off of his game. He never answered his phone in such tones, even when pissed off.

 

"Is everything all right, Raito?"

 

Father. "Yes, perfect." He used the metaphoric equivalent to a crowbar to inject some levity into his voice. "What's the reason for your call?" His father never called without reason. 

 

"Are you working today?"

 

"Of course. It's a weekday."

 

There was a stern silence that spoke of disapproval. Raito decided to wait it out and let his father get to the point. His patience, whatever dregs had been left of it, was perilously close to failing. It seemed already that this was going to be one of those talks and he did not have the time nor inclination to deal with it.

 

"Son, I don't think you have given the police force enough of a chance." Stern. Unyielding. The hint of anger and challenge. His father had never approved of his chosen career, nor had he eased in his efforts to convert him to the law.

 

"Father," he returned, steel in his voice though he pressed it through a reflexive, sharp smile. "I made up my mind. Years ago, in fact." Being polite was its own sort of agony.

 

"Is it the money?"

 

Again, that gruff, overbearing tone. "I fail to see why you keep bringing this up." Raito considered making some eggs, putting this time to good use by multitasking, but he had the feeling he might crush them in a fist of annoyance. Does Lawliet eat eggs? he wondered. He felt his idle thoughts shift then, becoming less forgiving. Would it have killed him to stick around a little longer? he thought churlishly. What time had he woken and left, anyway?

 

"I worry that you will become amoral in that line of work," he father was saying. 

 

"Ha," Raito scoffed. "Amoral... and by whose standards? Aren't you just upset that I did not chose to follow in your footsteps? That I am doing well for myself despite your wishes?"

 

He could hear indignant blustering on the other end of the line.

 

"Now, I really must be going. I can't cut into office hours, even for family." It came out with a bit of a snide ring to it. Faint, but there. Not enough to be called out upon though, just enough to make an impression. Family, to him, was an endless string of obligations and restrictions. He'd moved out as soon as he'd been able and hadn't looked back. It was a wonder his father thought to control him at all.

 

"You people don't keep proper office hours!" his father growled. "You're just a bunch of no good--"

 

"Careful, father," he warned quietly. Coldly.

 

"Raito... you have to understand." His father's voice had turned grudgingly conciliatory, as if it took great effort. "I put people like that away all the time. I don't want my own son to be one of them."

 

"Yes, well, your sentiments are noted. As such, I am now late, so do try to keep that in mind the next time you decide to call at this time. For the record, I do what I do because it is where I can effect the most change." He hung up as his father rallied his response, and unplugged the phone. He was in no mood, and even on the best of days he disliked justifying himself. It wasn't like he was a drug runner or an arms dealer, for god's sake.

 

His cell phone rang.

 

Not his father, he knew - the tone was specially set for his PA whom he currently had no particular desire to speak to. He picked up anyway, on the off-chance it was work related. "Hal," he said first, "what do you want?"

 

"Oh, did something happen?" she prodded gleefully. "You aren't usually this chipper in the morning." 

 

"My father called again."

 

"That can't be all it was. Weren't you meeting with that cute, dark-haired guy last night, or did he turn you down?"

 

"Listen, Vic, your role is over. And might I add that you were amazingly useless in digging up any information, and are quite irritating when you keep asking me for his number."

 

She scoffed at him.

 

Scoffed.

 

"And what did you find out on your own, Your Highness?"

 

Bitch. "Like I would tell you anything."

 

"Like you know anything," she retorted sassily.

 

He decided to make her pay for that one. "Hmm..." he considered aloud, drawing out the sound to get her going. "But I don't feel it's right," he said loftily, "to disclose the intimate details."

 

Her gasp of jealous indignation was satisfying. "You slept with him?! You bastard! I--"

 

He hung up on her and turned his phone off, so that she could stew in silence until he got to work. The rest of the day was looking up if he could torment her with lack of details. He practiced summoning a smile, the face he needed for the outside world, and felt it was sufficient enough to get him by.  

 

---

   

L scowled, crunching through piece after piece of dry frosted mini-wheat cereal and working on his third cup of over-steeped tea, not distracted nearly enough by the generous coating of delicious white sugar that covered a whole side of each one.

 

Some days, being an insomniac bode ill.

 

It was natural that he had awakened only a few hours after falling asleep. He only wondered that if he hadn't, would things have turned out differently? For better or for worse? 

 

It had been odd, at first, waking up to someone else's ceiling. In a brief flash of humor he felt surprised that, it being Raito's, there was no mirror up there. He sat up carefully, so as not to awaken the sleeping brunette, and looked down on him, watching his chest rise and fall with even breaths. The sheets were tangled about his legs and over his hips in an enticing manner. He seemed less volatile when unconscious. Boyish even, which made L wonder how old Raito even was. Was it his eyes that made him appear so ageless? His expressions? Certainly it was not in these youthful features, the ability to make L dance fore and aft or make him feel buoyant or crestfallen by a mere glance. 

 

Raito shifted, his bangs falling gracefully into his face. His sensual lips parted, moving slightly as if he were speaking, though L could hear nothing. Looking at him now, L could hardly equate him with the same person who had flung him up against the door, kissing him so passionately and stealing all of his power to resist. He just looked too calm and tranquil. Harmless, as if he couldn't shoot ice through your veins just by looking at you with eerily powerful disdain.

 

It was disturbing that he could do such a thing. That he could be so cold one moment, and hot the next. It had really thrown L for a loop, to be crushed under the weight of the brunette's disapproval one moment - to be fixated on it, no less - and then to be approached in such a recklessly sensual manner so suddenly...

 

In hindsight, he never should have gotten into the taxi... or at the very least he should have spared a thought to Raito's spoken destination. 'Home.' What had he been expecting? For the brunette to offer him dry clothing? For them to chat while Raito made good on his offer to cook? He knew back in the restaurant that he couldn't be alone with the other man. Those veiled, heated looks had gotten under his skin, and he knew he couldn't deny their owner once he'd pulled close.

 

Despite his fears though, it didn't seem that Raito was intent on making a fool of him. He seemed to harbor genuine desire - though he found that to be odd in and of itself - and their union had been the most profound thing L thought he was ever likely to experience in his lifetime. 

 

L slid out of Raito's bed, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, noting that it was a little after 3am as he located his pants on the floor.

 

He told himself that he was thirsty, and that the brunette was likely going to be asleep for a few hours yet, a good enough reason for wandering through the house and alleviating the restlessness that would peak if he were to try and stay still in bed. Part of that restlessness was being unsure of how he should face the brunette, come morning. Was it appropriate to say, 'Thanks, I had fun?' Was it required? Because he was fairly certain the brunette would smirk and twist his words back on him until he was blushing hot with embarrassment. 

 

He'd like to avoid that, really. Dignity was a prized asset. 

 

The other possibility was that this was a one time thing, in which case he was still at a loss as to what to do with himself.

 

He located a glass and filled it with water. He wasn't particularly thirsty, but it gave him something to do.

 

One time thing....

 

It was a troubling thought. But then, it was his own fault for sleeping with someone he hardly knew, which was troubling in its own right, being wildly out of character for him.

 

L wandered back into the living room, picking out details he had not noticed before in his pass through several hours ago.  The room housed a towering case of books along the wall adjoining the hall (almost floor to ceiling), the couch, which sat near the middle of the room, was bracketed on either side by sliding glass doors, lending the place an open feel. The room was exceptionally neat, with its smooth, hardwood floors, perfectly lined up books, and its minimal decor, with the exception of one thing: the couch's end table. L drifted over, quite curious to see what would be deserving of deviation from the rest of the room. The lamp on the table obscured his view for a moment as he drew closer, but when the scattered items finally came into focus, he felt his blood run cold.

 

These are...

 

He reached out a slightly shaking hand, picking up one of the items and staring at in disbelief. He recognized his own handwriting, his laughable attempts at drawing. He dropped it and picked up another, the cold, prickling feeling getting worse as he rifled through them. My coasters... they're all here? 

 

Then he saw it. The first one, with the mockingly drawn 'L' to one up his own. His vision swam as he stared at it and could see the pile of others behind it, cramped writing crawling darkly across the cardboard surfaces, the thoughts they embodied scrambling and vying for the loudest voice. Insistent little snippets, flashing out bits of thought and memory, the vehicles of their birth, until it was quite a cacophony of silent horror.

 

It all lent a different pallor to things said, and looks exchanged. 

 

Raito's insistence with him. The evasions, and the insinuations. The vaguely mocking amusement. Even the harsh breaths

in his ear as he let Raito use his body. 

 

'Come for me, Lawliet. Only me.'

 

The possessiveness, the air of entitlement...

 

Raito had been cornering him, stalking him, misleading him, toying with him. And to what end? How entrapped am I to become? Any way you looked at this, it was not normal. Exceedingly not normal and cause for concern. 

 

He had a brief flash of Raito locking him in a room, never allowing him out, nor contact with anyone but Raito himself. 

 

Was it so fanciful? So outlandish an imagining? He looked at the pile of coasters, feeling utterly violated, trepidation and anger rising up in equal fury. He wanted to cast them to the floor or burn them, but he couldn't afford the noise. He felt betrayed, lost, and skittish.

 

What did he really know about Raito? Not nearly enough that he could discount the little signs he'd seen so far... the neatness, the lack of respect for others and their property, the hot and cold swings of his mood, and that oh-so-charming exterior... he very well could be a sociopath. Add to that his displayed hobby of stalking, and there was no telling if he might also be predisposed to killing.

 

It was not a conclusion he jumped to lightly. It was not even more than 5% likely to be the case. However, it was still possible. As such, he would not dismiss it, and would act accordingly for his own well being.

 

L dropped the coaster onto the pile of them and went, carefully, into the bedroom to retrieve his shirt. Tension crawled up his spine as he tiptoed in. He reached for the shirt and jumped as the brunette rolled onto his side, facing him. Heart pounding in his throat, he remained frozen, watching his face for signs of wakefulness. There were none. There was only the smooth curve of his cheek, the strong planes of his back, the sultry flare of lean hips barely covered, and the long line of well-shaped legs.

 

L's mouth felt dry. 

 

Why is he so beautiful?

 

His mind warred with itself. Get back into that bed and hope for the best? Taking the chance that he might be psycho and could stab you or some other such gruesome thing? Or leave now, cut your losses, and make safety a priority?

 

It was a tougher decision than it should have been.

 

(Of course, he could always be perfectly sane, and is merely going to laugh at you later for thinking this interaction might have a snowball's chance in hell at continuing.)

 

That did it. He slid his shirt off the floor and over his head, jumpy at the thought of those gorgeous, commanding eyes opening and leaving him powerless.

 

Retreating back to the living room, too distraught to properly appreciate the mournful state of his still-damp clothing (the shirt was especially cold) he grabbed his jacket off the floor and put it on. He began shivering and he wasn't sure if it was entirely from his saturated attire. Almost reflexively, his hands dug into his pockets, and one wrapped around a slim metal object.

 

He drew out the lighter, mixed feelings swarming him. 

 

Whatever he is, he isn't normal.

 

He took halting steps back to the table with the coasters and stared down. 'Lawliet...' Even now, he could hear that sinful, carnal voice calling him, crawling up his spine and dragging him down. He could see those eyes caging him with their intensity, winding through him like invisible bonds to hold him still. He could feel the ghosts of hands on his skin, pulling feelings from his body that he hadn't known he was capable of, drowning him in them.

 

'Only me.'

 

The complete lack of control that L felt any time the brunette was concerned was the motivating factor.

 

Whatever he is, he's dangerous.

 

He put the lighter down next to the coasters, knowing the message it conveyed. Raito had hit him like a storm from the moment they'd first met, and it was only increasing. It was only becoming more confusing and convoluted as Raito pulled him further and further into his territory. He had to take a step back. He needed time to think. Too much was happening too fast and he did not know where it would end up.

 

---

 

Around noon, L crept down the stairs to find something to munch on (hoping to avoid running into Watari or anyone else for that matter).  

 

Sometime near four in the afternoon, he did the same.

 

He was half annoyed that the cases he was working on were being so tedious, half grateful that they were because they were wonderfully distracting. That being the case, he didn't feel inclined to eat more than what was easily portable and quickly procured. Not the most nutritious of choices, pretzel sticks and and twizzlers, but they were good brain food. He forewent the chocolate dip for the pretzles, not wanting to spare the extra time and energy, nor risk increasing the chances that Watari would emerge from his study. 

 

He wasn't being avoidant... He just did not feel like speaking with anyone. It would interfere with work. Yes.

 

If he were being more honest, however, he could admit to the vague paranoia that Celia might pop up at any time to pinch his cheeks and harass him about the birds and the bees (an idiomatic expression which was inexplicably popular despite its tendency to poorly convey what L considered to be near quintessential knowledge). Ever since that night Watari introduced them, he'd never been entirely sure when to next expect to see her in their house. Did they just go out on dates? Did Watari have her stay over for the evening? 

 

L blanched at the thought of anything intimate occurring between the older couple under his roof. Their roof, he corrected. He and Watari were cohabitants after all, and held equal claim, but still. 

 

He thudded lightly up the stairs, trying in vain not to let that thought mutate into just what intimacies he had engaged in under Raito's roof, the memories nipping at his heels.

 

Had he lost his mind to let someone that close? Someone he barely knew?

 

What had happened to his reservations??

 

His habit of self-preservation?

 

Or even his long-standing self-consciousness around other humans?

 

He closed his door and sat down at his desk, willing his mind to stop flickering with the feeling of Raito's mouth consuming his, or the sinful touch of heated skin along his body.  

 

Shaking his head, he chewed viciously on a twizzler, refusing to dwell upon the more scandalous things like parted thighs and gasping breaths, though he could feel the hot blaze of a flush claiming his cheeks. How had he come to let something like this occur? And with a pen-stealing, potentially sociopathic, well-dressed, charismatic person such as Raito?

 

Good god. His logic was falling prey to temptations of the flesh.

 

It was a sad day in the life of a man who prized his mental integrity above all else. 

 

To further illustrate his flawed grey matter, he couldn't make up his mind if the coaster issue was purely horrifying (as it should be), or if it came off as somewhat endearing in a freakish sort of way. He supposed the scales would tip a little more favorably to the former were it to come to light that the brunette did have a propensity for serial killing... but he really disliked the thought that that was what it would take for someone to harbor an interest in him. As such, he found himself inclined to want to push that possibility aside.

 

Ted Bundy was charming, too, he reminded himself.

 

Best to leave all of this alone.

 

Oh, look, data has found me, he thought dryly as he checked his inbox. A perfect reason to actually do work and stop fixating on things that I have decided will no longer affect me. 

 

He pulled up a new screen or two and started typing in a mad flurry of pale, spidery fingers. It must have been a one-night stand. Otherwise he might have called or texted me later... 

 

Not that I want him to. It just seems like the sort of thing he would do.

 

His brow furrowed in annoyance.

 

Sometimes being able to multitask to great extents was not a helpful ability. Now he was thinking about Raito's short, bordering on rude texts and how they reflected a great deal on the brunette's sense of entitlement. The one-upmanship was also irritating, as was Raito's disregard for his wet clothing the other night at the restaurant. It was a wonder he didn't get sick.

 

Now that I think about it, he probably planned it all from the beginning, and fully expected me to fall in bed with him, no questions asked.

 

Entitled.

 

It kind of pissed L off. It was such an abuse of power - of the natural gifts that had been lavished upon the brunette - such as his looks, his inescapable charm, and his intelligence. The list could go on, but L was not of a mind to praise the coaster collector's attributes. It was as if he were a devil dressed as an angel, walking around as if he were God. Maybe he only pursued those that did not immediately drop to their knees. Perhaps he was bored with mindless adoration, despite the fact that he seemed to expect it. No, demand it.

 

L picked up another twizzler and chewed on it aggressively, staring with fixed eyes on his screen, refusing the urge to check into the brunette's background. He was not a stalker; he would absolutely not start acting like one. He was working. Work demanded focus. Discipline.

 

Oh, fucking Aiber had emailed him.

 

Wonderful.

 

Making a sour face, he clicked on the message.

 

Greetings, Illustrious L.

I have come across something you might find of interest through a mutual acquaintance of ours. Rather, your personal acquaintance and my temporary employer. Quite the interesting client, if I do say so myself.

 

L could just hear the self-satisfied, mocking amusement in Aiber's words. Intolerable, as always. But... what had the man found out that he felt was worthy of baiting him with? Personal acquaintance... The first thing that popped into his mind was Raito, as L didn't have many connections outside of work and the brunette was the most recent. It didn't help that he was also unsuccessfully trying not to think of him. Anyway, what were the odds?

 

I can't say more due to the non-disclosure clause, of course. I happen to be in town if you would like to discuss other business. 

 

Of course. L rolled his eyes. Aiber didn't give a crap about things like that, made exceedingly apparent by his veiled invitation to feed L information were they to meet. He had to give the Nazi credit for making his personal emails seem professional. It was unlikely that anyone skimming his words would find fault or fraud.

 

If you are disinclined to be personable, or are otherwise preoccupied, we can always catch up over the next job. You are an excellent assistant, after all.

 

L grit his teeth. 'Disinclined to be personable.' What a playful way to smack at his less successful dealings with people, (while trying to goad him into accepting the invitation). Aiber loved rubbing that in. Just like he loved acting like L was his very own PA, or that he needed Aiber's help in finding job leads.

 

By the way, my friend, Mr. Sakizawa seems to enjoy taking his correspondences over the phone or during a game of golf.  Just something to keep in mind as you do love your computer, and I do love getting your clients. (Fore!)

 

A.

 

Bastard, L thought viciously, chewing on his thumb. Damn Nazi bastard. He was probably stealing Sakizawa even now, or had already stolen him. 

 

The question was, did he send over his current progress, or did he withhold it in case the information went straight to Aiber and was accredited to him as well? Hmn. If Aiber was warning him, his client was probably as good as gone. Still, he supposed he could have Watari call the man in the morning... Or...he could call himself. What an annoyance. He hated calling clients. But if he were ever going to grow his experiment into something more widely applicable, he should extend his personal torment to the work realm and not limit it to dark bars and drinking to free his mind.

 

The other question was, why was Aiber in town? Had something piqued his interest or was he merely making an ass of himself by stationing himself in L's territory and swindling his clients out from under him with those faux movie star smiles and... golf skills? 

 

L shook his head. Golf. He never would have suspected.

 

He hit the reply button and stared at the cursor a moment, composing his reply before moving his fingers over the keys.

 

What good news. If I suddenly discover time for a new hobby, I will keep your suggestion in mind. I am currently not in the position to meet with your other request, as I am much too busy with the cases in my queue, Sakizawa not withstanding. Why you should decide to relocate to Tokyo right now is beyond me, as the constant rain would surely cramp your style.

 

L

 

Having sent that off, L leaned back in his chair and wondered why he spent more time dealing with Aiber than he did most people, and he couldn't even stand the guy. Surely there must be people out there that were not so unlikeable, that could maintain communication of some sort? The man was like those nasty joint aches some people suffered when the weather turned too cold or wet - though dormant at times, he was always sure to reappear.

 

A small bit of movement on the screen caught his eye. 

 

Aiber had already responded.

 

L,

I don't feel compelled to take Sakizawa if you are lean in work. Come out and have a drink or dinner. Loosen up. I promise you'll find it worth your while. 

 

A.

 

Scratch that, Sakizawa was already in Aiber's clutches. Damn.

 

I'll think about it.

 

L

 

There wasn't a whole lot to think about. He was extremely curious to know what Aiber might know, but the thought of suffering the man's presence was not a pleasant one, nor was drinking or dining with him. He didn't bother correcting Aiber's comment on work being slow. It was just something to wind him up. L had enough cases to hack away at, and Sakizawa's was certainly not the most profitable. It was no great loss. Just another warm fuzzy that he wanted to choke the blonde man with.

 

There was a light but firm knock on L's door which roused him partially from his thoughts. What would this client of Aiber's have to do with me, anyway? 

 

"Come in," he called. It was somewhat annoying that Watari had still not broken that habit after all these years. It wasn't like he was ever doing things in here that needed hidden; he just worked and occasionally slept. 

 

Well...

 

...except for that one time, he thought, vaguely mortified that he had indulged in self-gratification while imagining another person, especially Raito. 

 

He pushed the matter of sexual fantasies FAR out of his head. the last thing he needed was to start thinking about the brunette, or the very real events of last night. L looked up as the door clicked shut to see what the older man wanted and nearly fell out of his chair. "What are you doing here??" he gasped out past the sudden squeezing in his chest. 

 

Standing just inside the door, regarding him calmly, shrouded in an air of casual beauty that was nothing less than devastating... 

 

Raito.

 

L stared, open-mouthed, feeling his palms become damp within his clenched hands. 

 

THE Raito, was in his house.

 

"May I?" the brunette asked lightly, ignoring his question and inviting himself into the room to L's indignant shock.

 

"No, you may not," he said emphatically, to which Raito shrugged and sat down on his bed anyway. 

 

His heart was beating a little too fast and he couldn't determine whether it was due to trepidation, anger, or excitement. Raito seemed perfectly at ease in his space, perfectly comfortable, as if he had every right to be there. How had Raito discovered where he lived? He was not exactly listed anywhere. "Why are you here? How did you get in?"

 

"Your manservant let me in," Raito said, meeting his gaze and arching a perfect brow as if it was not only a stupid question, but quite possibly THE stupidest question he might have asked.

 

L bristled, irritation winning out in the face of absurdity. What is it with this rich-kid mentality?! Someone answering the door automatically makes them staff? "Watari is not my manserv--" He caught on at the last moment, saw a flicker of mirth in Raito's eyes. The brunette was baiting him. "Oh-ho, you're really funny. Hilarious." He glared down at the brunette's I'm-so-innocent face imperiously. "You have five seconds to start telling me what you are doing here. After that, I'll have you removed."

 

Raito made himself more comfortable on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. The shirt he wore under his expensive-looking coat rode up his stomach a little, exposing the thinnest strip of enticing, tanned skin. "So cold, Lawliet. Were you only using me for my body after all?"

 

L's eyes snapped back to Raito's face and he dearly wished he had something to throw at the brunette's head. Not only because he hadn't meant to look, but because he despised this sort of teasing and the way he was flushing at even the most roundabout mention of their intimacy the night before. 

 

If that was his intruding guest's mood, he didn't have to endure it. "If you aren't leaving, I will." 

 

Let Watari deal with him then, he thought as he stalked towards the door. Maybe I should just meet Aiber or something instead.

 

"Lawliet." Raito's voice was sharp and commanding, stopping him in his tracks.

 

L turned and spared him a baleful glare. The humor of a moment ago had fled the brunette's face. He looked quite serious, all teasing and playfulness in absence as his eyes pinned L to the spot. "Your questions..." he offered solemnly. "Ask whatever you like and I'll answer."

 

L sized him up, not seeing the reason for the other man to be so forthcoming all of a sudden.

 

Raito smiled and spread his hands. "It was part of our agreement, after all."

 

'Is that all you wish to know?' Raito had said, humor lurking in his voice as he surveyed L in the cradling darkness of the cab's nearly private back seat.

 

'There is quite a deal more,' L said staunchly, trying to ignore the pull of those eyes in the name of pining the brunette down for some answers, 'but I think that is a fair place to start."

 

"Hmmm," Raito had practically purred in the back of his throat, sending ripples of fluttering desire through L. It was a reaction L was desperately fighting and losing to. "And what is my reward for answering?"

 

Agreement? The way L remembered, it was a distraction technique that made ample use of bedroom eyes, a husky voice, and the dangerously seductive application of lips, mouth, and hands. What the hell kind of agreement was that? And the insinuation that L would put out just to get a bit of questioning in... Or that that sort of payment was even desired by brunette... L scowled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, trying to hide evidence of a blush while he secretly killed it.

 

"Thank you," Raito returned with a visible smirk, accepting the criticism as if it were praise to preen over. Warmth spilled into those eyes unexpectedly, pulling L into their little flames, promising him a sweet end if he were to come within range. Banked passion shifted there, held in check for the moment, for the situation, but it flickered if he stared too long.

 

Resigned to his inability to escape that dark amber gaze, he doggedly shuffled back to his chair. He sat upon it backwards, leaning his arms upon the chair's back - a nice little barrier to keep between them. He didn't quite believe Raito would disclose anything about himself, but the prospect that he might was just too enticing to pass up. "What is your profession?" he asked, affecting a deadpan voice.

 

"Political Lobbyist," was the candid reply.

 

He answered? L was shocked for a moment, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Then why do you seem to have so much money?"

 

"Pass," Raito said with a smile.

 

"This isn't a game," L said with exasperation, the bubble that was The Spirit of Cooperation having just burst in his face.

 

"According to whom? Isn't life just one big game?"

 

Ah, there was that sharp look, the razor-like humor and challenge that L didn't want to touch with a 10-foot pole. Considering he often acted against his best interests where the brunette was concerned, he probably would anyway, but he didn't feel the need to get into Raito's personal philosophy just yet. 

 

"We'll come back to that," L said. 

 

L debated asking what he really wanted, and weighed the odds of receiving a true answer. "Raito..." he paused, the name feeling silky and forbidden upon his tongue. "Explain the coasters." If he was short with words it was partly because the whole thing rubbed him the wrong way... and partly because he was confronting the first person he'd ever slept with being a stalker, and things like that were just sort of difficult to pull off without sounding accusatory.

 

Again, Raito looked at him with nonchalantly raised brows. "I was curious. It wasn't as if I went to great pains to procure them."

 

L frowned. "You have every single one."

 

"Fascinating coincidence, isn't it?" Raito agreed.

 

They stared each other down. Raito was unrepentant in his frustratingly obvious sidestepping, and L was obviously frustrated. So much for his willingness to answer questions openly. I only got one out of three! "You aren't being particularly illuminating, Yagami-san."

 

"I'd rather you call me Raito," the brunette said with a secret smile. "I much prefer the sound of that name on your tongue."

 

L felt his loins throb and was aghast that all it took was subtle inflection and a change in the eyes for the brunette to accomplish. How easily he'd conjured up the sound of L speaking that name in passion. Blasphemous demon. L bit the inside of his mouth and tried to regain control of himself, and possibly the situation.

 

"What time is it?" Raito asked casually as he watched L, despite the quite obvious watch on his wrist.

 

L sent him a baleful glare, wondering at his laziness, or perhaps his obsessive need to make people do things for him.

 

The beautiful brunette let his gaze darken with disapproval, and raised his brows in imperious command.

 

L grumbled and got up so he could face his computer. Wiggling the mouse to dispel the laptop's black screensaver, he checked the time. Six? Was it already so late? He turned to relay the information as arms slid around his waist and soft lips descended on his.

 

Oh god, why is he so good at his?

 

He sank into it, all the while thinking he shouldn't. Shouldn't be so susceptible to Raito's soft, hot mouth, or his skillful manipulations. He shouldn't fall into wanting this closeness so badly.  

 

L's brain took temporary leave as the kiss grew more passionate, not to mention the feeling of Raito's body against his.

 

God...

 

That throbbing in his loins was fast becoming deep-seated lust. 

 

It was a lust that was also pissed beyond all hell when Raito pulled back, and wasn't placated when one, and then two kisses were pressed against his hungry lips.

 

"Mm, I'd love to continue that thought," Raito said, looking as if he were flirting with the thought of another real kiss, "but we're late."

 

So if not a one-night stand, might it be a two-night stand the brunette wanted? L wondered. Wait, late for what? "What are you talking about?" L asked with confusion as his mind hopped around in gimp-legged circles.

 

"Dinner, and I promise you that it will be an enlightening experience."

 

L considered this carefully. A date? An apology? In any case, he took this to mean that more of his questions had a hope of being answered, and for that, he would play along. He was rather determined to peel back some of the mystery that cloaked his companion, and even his misbegotten lust could be set aside for that.

 

However, the venue he expected could not have been any more the opposite of the one at which they arrived in a small suburban community. It was with fresh horror, as Raito's vehicle turned into one of the driveways, that L realized what might actually be in store.

 

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TBC

 

A/N: I finished the next part today, but posting it now would only guarantee a really long wait for part 8. So... part 7 will be next week.

 

Thank you, all of you who are reviewing! I'm sorry time is not allowing me to reply. 

 

Oh, and a HUGE thank you and a hug to blueseashells. You had me cracking up, and loving every word. XD Thank you so much for your support!! <3 (Don't worry about back-reviewing aBfSF! 10 chapters would take forever, so do whatever time and inclination allow you, my dear, and don't stress. I'll talk to you soon.)